


where villains spend the weekend

by aishiteita



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Kaitou Kid is looking for part timers, M/M, Post-Black Organization Takedown, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2020-05-13 00:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19239913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishiteita/pseuds/aishiteita
Summary: A former teen sleuth enlists a should-be-retired-thief's help to slap ennui in the face.(Alternatively, a study in motives.)





	1. ACAB

**Author's Note:**

> its been a long time ago............... i remember tiny me reading dcmk fics in the school library back then lmao  
> big shoutout to k/s fics of 2000s-2012 ... my heroes..
> 
> ps. if the lads sound weirdly crude here its because. they really do speak rudely in canon i believe hhhh accept it for the banter,,

Tokyo feels significantly smaller after the FBI, the Black Organization, and a high school diploma.

Jokes—Shinichi just regained a good two feet of his height and can finally walk a whole street without gasping for breath. He thought re-adjustments would take longer, but Conan shed off him like a bad sunburn, gone in a week.

Wait, no, Conan isn't completely gone yet. Not when Ran couldn't shake off her big sister act, putting their relationship on hold after one date, and not when Ai is still trying to make an antidote for herself, piecing together life after the organization with Shinichi and Agasa's help (she tells him his guilt is patronizing, but he can't help it, can he?). Not when he has an entire list of _people who may know_ and _do not tell_ s.

He wonders what the law says to a mentally eighteen-year-old grade-schooler shooting someone. It wasn't self-defense, no matter how many times the folks in TMPD's first division tried to drill the opposite statement into his head.

"Impressive CV, this." Shinichi is brought back to the attention of too-hot coffee and one Kuroba Kaito—long-time acquaintance, new friend. "Morbid, for sure, but impressive. Very nice of your division to write you an entire reference and whatnot."

"I wanted to go private, because cop school doesn't sound fun," Shinichi mutters, keeping their conversation going. "But then I would be stalking old married men and not..."

"...murder?" Kaito offers.

"Yeah," Shinichi huffs. His coffee is too sour and he feels—a little too _old_ for a to-be-freshman. "Yeah, that."

Kaito toys with his cheesecake, scribbling his alter ego's insignia with raspberry glaze and a fork. "Y'know, most people try their best to stay _out_ of murder. You guys in Beika are just fucked up." Irate, Shinichi's hand dives for Kaito's accusing fork. Nimble fingers twist and spin the offending article away from Shinichi, but he splashes a teaspoon of hot coffee onto the other's hand and, one yelp later, the fork is his.  

"Do you see me in the future as... anything but a detective?" Shinichi asks as sincerely as he can, considering his current choice in confidants. He was honest-to-god shocked learning of Kaitou Kid's identity (identities?) and how they were supposed to be close friends if things went just a little better on Kaito's end. It did not— _does_ not help any, that they got heavily involved towards the Black Org's end.

The fork is gone from Shinichi's hands as quickly as Kaito's grin overtakes his face. "You have _no idea_ how long I've waited for you to ask me that because _yes—_ yes, I see you as something." Shinichi is tempted to tell him off because Kaito has shared that same grin with the whole nation too often. It's identifiable and in his opinion, reckless. "My sir detective, I see you as something wholly different from what you are now."

Shinichi puts the fork back down, heaving an exaggerated sigh as he crosses out Kaito's Kid scribble. " _Maybe_ ," he starts tentatively, "just maybe—I am tired of murder."

"This doesn't involve murder, Shin-babe."

"Please don't call me that." Coffee break. Kaito's grin doesn't let up for a millisecond. "And I have a feeling I would not like your suggestion. I'd like copping out to be an option."

"It isn't an option anymore, now that you've mentioned it."

"Then fuck you."

Kaito narrowly dodges the next coffee flick, expertly using his fork to hold down Shinichi's teaspoon. The _clang_ beckons attention from their seat's neighbors. "I'm just saying that _phantom thief_ would look good on your CV, y'know, and my mom could write you a _banging_ reference if—sorry, I mean _when_ —you finish the job."

" _Oh my god_ ," Shinichi laments with a hand over his face, "just because _you_ can't hang your cape doesn't mean you get to drag _me_ into what are now _meaningless heists—_ "

"I will _cut_ you if you so much as call them meaningless, Kudou," Kaito spits, "my heists are art and hey! Hey, just because _you_ get the perfect lil' ending to your kerfuffle does _not_ mean I can say goodbye to—oh, that's right—my family's legacy?!"

"Your mom did!"

"She got married in the Showa era, of course she'd retire, fuckass!" Kaito throws his hands in flabbergasted defeat. "Look, do you, or do you not want, to be included in the next Kid heist?"

Shinichi's brain is pushed into overdrive as he considers his upcoming university schedule, TMPD internship offers, Ran and her indefinite break from romance, Ai responding less and less to _Shiho_ because that isn't what Conan called her, and _Kuroba, what are we again?_

"Can't hurt anyone," he says in a small voice. Kaito hums in agreement and leaves Shinichi with the bill and a searing kiss on his cheek.

***

Kaito would call himself a happy person. He is living life to the fullest, too full in fact, that he really is considering hanging his cape for good come university or drop out altogether. Heists are a full-time thing and fuck all his detectives—they've never _worked_ for it. They've never prepped weeks for a two-hour show, and latex masks are _stuffy._

They don't even know why he's doing what he does. Fuck detectives, all cops are bastards, Pandora's lore of granting immortality had been faked all along, and _his_ _dad might be alive_ barely scratches Kaito's list of _I swear I'm not having an identity crisis._

So he's not the _happiest_ a person can be, but that's measuring it wrongly and he just has to do one more heist. _One more heist._ The men in grey are gone now, he can live, he doesn't have to feel like he's babysitting a crowd of thousands. He can play tag with Hakuba and no one would get hurt.

That's how a phantom thief should be.

"I'll do my best to help you look for your father," Shinichi mentioned way back then. His father, Yusaku, said the same thing when he introduced Kaito to the family. "It's the least I could do."

He'd be lying if he says he's not expecting good news every time Shinichi drops by, but the guy is a walking, breathing husk of what Conan finally became, and Kaito is in desperate need of company.

He still can't tell Aoko.

"Okay, so there's a Tiffany exhibition soon, and I don't know what their whack CEO is thinking, bringing the Yellow Diamond to Japan, of all places, like why?"

"I mean..." Shinichi stares vacantly at Kaito's whiteboard, heist diagram messy with too many symbols. "A gig is a gig is a gig?"

"Look at you," Kaito muses, "getting _so_ into the job and all. I could cry."

If the Kaito from four months ago were to know that current Kaito is planning a heist with Teitan's best, he would hyperventilate. If the Kaito from three years ago were to know that the Kaito from about half a year to four months ago was sucking face with Beika's Holmes, he would die on the spot. Shinichi liked to excuse it as _emotionally confused behavior_ and Kaito couldn't have said it better.

(He loves Aoko, so, _so_ much—but the thought of her joining the force or any kind of government body sends him spiraling through sleepless nights until she decks him in the jaw for spacing out in the middle of a date. All cops are bastards, Aoko included, because liking Kid is needed in the whole "liking Kuroba Kaito" package. Because he is starting to believe that he will never be able to stop being Kid for his whole life and she's never been able to accept that since day one. Not to mention the guilt Kid carries for giving Aoko separation anxiety since childhood. Let it be known that his dad wasn't completely harmless.)

"I will not help divert the Kid taskforce away from your heist," Shinichi refutes the instant Kaito mentions the idea. "I really don't think you need it anyway."

"Please—I'm rusty. It's been nearly half a year since the last Kid heist," Kaito whines. It's only half-correct; the fear of jumping off buildings dissipated completely by his fifth heist or so and all it really takes is a good few days of going over blueprints. Rusty is an obvious lie that Shinichi is so kindly humoring Kaito with, bless him. "I wanna make this the best heist. Ever. Hakuba will cry from both frustration and awe."

Shinichi gives him a disapproving stare. "And you say I'm sadistic, you sick fuck."


	2. Cluster C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: binging 24 eps of magic kaito 1412
> 
> theres just.. too little interaction when theyre That Connected dangit

The timeline of Kudou Shinichi and Kuroba Kaito is fairly simple—three years ago, the clock tower heist in Ekoda; their first meeting (as cop and robber). Three years ago, Kaito faced Snake for the first time as Kid, learned of his father's fate, and started noticing the men in grey. Three years ago, Kudou Shinichi went MIA and Edogawa Conan promptly replaced him in Kid heists, too sharp for a six-year-old.

Two years ago, Kaito pieced together that Shinichi was Conan. A year and a half ago, he sent Conan a flurry of Kid cards, all stupid puzzles that got him to ask his father _who is Kaitou Kid?_ because he was too chicken to blurt out the truth in front of the tiny detective.

A year and a half ago, Conan met Kaito—Kuroba Kaito—for the very first time.

Time passed inexplicably fast after that. The moment they put two and two together with Snake, Gin, and the Black Org—it was a matter of planning and getting a proper gun to replace their little gadgets. That was half a year ago; the FBI, the entire TMPD, Kid's bloodstained suit, gunshots. Half a year since Ai forced the first antidote onto him, half a year since Kaito told him to call whenever he needed. He did, a good couple of months later. Kaito looked just as tired as he was, and a bottle of convenience store sake led to another, and the rest is history.

Riveting stuff.

_This is cheaper than therapy_ , Kaito said placatingly. Shinichi had nothing to offer as a rebuttal.

None of them are therapists; their acquaintanceship leapt past friends and circled around lovers indecisively within barely half a year until Shinichi forced it back to 'partners', having no better word for it.

"Admit that you're dating Kaitou Kid," Ai says without looking up from her papers. Shinichi groans indignantly as the d-word registers in his brain, the pen he had been twirling so deftly falling to the floor. "You've been gone a lot recently, and don't think I don't notice the weird... finger practices."

"Pervert. I'm just relearning the violin."

"If I'm a pervert, you're a lecher."  

Shinichi picks up his pen and twirls it to avoid eye contact with Ai. He doesn't want to tell her that this is homework for Thief Skills 101, chapter one in the dexterity module. What's the point of passing Kaito's cardio test when he can't pick pockets.

Which brings him to the Blue Parrot again, five p.m. on the dot, getting over three puzzles in three minutes before racing up a boobytrapped staircase to reach what Kaito tackily dubs as _the lair_.

_Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?_ plays in crescendo as Shinichi approaches the bar's glass doors, four identical Carmen Sandiego plushies with speakers on them blocking the doorknob. He turns off one of the speakers and punches one of the dummies, triggering the rest to vibrate off the door and let him into the bar.

"Shin-beans," Kaito croons, "how was your journey here?"

"One of them said _where in hell is Carmen Santiago_ , and the other one is you singing the song."

"I mimicked the voice perfectly."

"Yeah, but you pronounce _world_ funny."

Kaito flips him off, but not without giving Shinichi his usual kiss on the cheek and a squeeze on the ass. He takes advantage of how flustered Shinichi still gets when it comes to physical contact, sauntering off to the other side of the room with Shinichi's phone slipped slowly into his breast pocket. "I know your passcode," he taunts.

The annoying thing about having Kaito as an instructor for Thief Skills 101 is that he is incredibly loyal to his craft, and refused to directly teach Shinichi tricks from the get-go. Escaping traps and quietly catfighting over delicate objects is all Kaito gives him. _Get creative, gumshoe_ , Kaito sneered last week, _I've revealed more to you than any magician ever would._ He dared to wink after the statement.

The other annoying thing about having Kaito as an instructor and partner for the next Kid heist is that they're meeting with context, again. Shinichi just wants one question answered, god, he just needs _something_ solid labelled between them or he will go mad. The Black Org is gone and Pandora never existed—Kaito needs to stop finding excuses for them to be in the same room. Kaito shouldn't get to kiss Shinichi anytime he pleases yet jump off the GranTokyo Tower the first time Shinichi does it to him.

In short, Shinichi sometimes thinks of marriage, more than just for the hell of it, and Kaito acts too _easy_ for someone so disinterested. Shinichi catches him around the waist, nose-to-nose as he brushes back Kaito's messy hair.

"You need a haircut," Shinichi says coolly, brandishing a phone from behind Kaito. Easy as candy from a baby. "And a diploma because what's that I hear? Me graduating from thief school."

Kaito is still flushed when Shinichi lets go of his waist only to hold his hand. "I just caught you _cheating_." The retort falls on deaf ears as Shinichi drags him down to sit on the floor.

The most annoying thing about being involved with Kaito is that they can't really hide much from each other. When Kaito playfully suggested that Shinichi try to be Kaitou Kid once, he didn't mean just _once_. He was forcing closure on himself, as if watching someone beat him in his own game would help the retirement process. It was a weighted election and Shinichi found it hard to say no when he was the one who baited the idea out of Kaito.

"Wanna work on the blueprints with me?" Kaito asks the moment Shinichi falls quiet.

He'll let it slide for one more night. "Sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do i have a kid playlist or do i have a kid playlist!!!!!!!! [of course i do ,](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CnYiRXKc2h8pbfVSgMjri?si=eHAbJtO5QVSHXbI3eryBVQ)


	3. Only if for a Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank !!!!!!!! u !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! everyone !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> edit 07/19/19: teeny tiny things, and also lmao whats canon anymore ill just make vermouth say toichis alive.

No one is more chipper than Kaito for fitting day.

Jii jots down the last of Shinichi's measurements, tape slung across his shoulders. "The suit won't need alterations, but I'm afraid his shirt will have to be smaller, young master."

"The shirt is no biggie," Kaito sighs in relief, heist budget suddenly 100,000 yen larger. He tosses the rest of Kid's costume to Shinichi before ushering him into the changing room. "Get acquainted, Kudou. The suit is big because it's full of secrets."

Shinichi cringes at the reference. He inspects the suit, which could be more accurately described as a torso-sized wallet; the lapels had slits at the bottom and so did any folded corner of the garment. Unassuming cufflinks detached as bugging devices and there were at least twenty pockets within the front of the suit. He put it on, tried to feel for each and every opening, and wondered how Kaito ever managed his first heist. The gravity of the situation is only now dawning upon him in the form of a heavy suit.

"Are the pants this bad?" Shinichi's nerves creep into his voice. He groans when Kaito responds by blaring Okino Yoko's newest single.

When Shinichi dons the hat and fastens the cape on, it's heavy. It's heavier than carrying Genta on his back. Even without the tie and monocle, it's heavier than the last bullet in his grip half a year ago. Kaito draws back the curtain to find Shinichi slack-jawed at his own reflection in the mirror. He whistles, "Fits you like a glove, Shin-honey."

"Thanks." Shinichi can't even chide him to quit with the pet names. "Is Jii still there?"

"He's left." Kaito offers Shinichi an unnecessary hand, twirling him out of the changing room; a grand show with the cape billowing about Shinichi's white-clad figure. He slips Kid's signature satin white gloves onto Shinichi's hands, too tight between the fingers. "You don't seem too happy."

It's hard to feel excited for the heist when Shinichi now knows exactly what goes on beyond the silly top hat and monocle. Kaito is fully aware that no one can replace him as Kaitou Kid, that relaying the regalia to anyone else would only kill the magic. His hands start to sweat in Kaito's hold. "I don't think I can do this."

"I know it's super bulky the first time." Kaito does as he always does, escaping. He swings their arms around.  "Why don't you keep it on for a few hours? No one's home, really, we can take stupid pics of you in my costume—"

"I can't replace you as Kid, Kaito."

Kaito flinches at his name, releasing Shinichi's hands. "That's not what I meant," he replied tersely. Yoko's peppy voice cuts off as Kaito pauses the music.

The top hat is swiftly removed from his head—Shinichi watches deft fingers make quick, delicate work of the suit, peeling the layers off him. "It's okay," he stammers, "I'll do the rest myself." _I'm sorry_ wasn't said aloud, but Shinichi feels ten times worse than a simple sorry. Conan will never be his responsibility again, but Kaitou Kid is something that he can't beg others to forget. Kaitou Kid is larger than that, this heavy legacy that Kaito carries in his two hands every night.

Kaito was having a good day too, damn it.

***

In terms of never-have-I-ever, Kaito is the biggest loser there is.

Jumped off a building? Check. Got his cape stuck on barbed railing? Check. Retired at an appropriate age and go home to his beautiful wife? Point. He's barely nineteen and playing a serious game of tonsil hockey with his latest guy friend (boyfriend?).

Kaitou Kid wasn't even _born_ when his dad was nineteen. He can't quit now. Not when Vermouth told him that Toichi is still alive. Two and a half years he spent looking for Pandora only to find out it doesn't exist. His mother tells him to drop it but that's two years of work and ten years of grief he won't ever get back. That's ten years of praying to a tombstone with no body under it.

"I still have colleagues who would love to help, Kaito," his mother said, smoothing his hair when he tottered home, still in his white suit and smelling faintly of gunpowder. "You can stop."

Stopping sounds good, actually. His body is sick of being sore and his brain will crumble if he has to lie to Aoko one more time. No more blind goose-chasing and disappointing a father who may or may not be dead. It's just that two, three years of listening to his dad's cassette tapes drilled it into his head that he doesn't know how to be anything but a magician.

A perpetually confused, thieving magician, but a magician nonetheless.

Sulking in his dad's secret room is nothing novel; Shinichi found him a whole two hours after their suit-fitting hell only out of courtesy. Ample space and all that. Kaito appreciates him greatly despite wanting to deck Shinichi in the jaw. He loads the next tape into his player. _When faced with an overly curious audience..._

Shinichi enters the room on anxious feet. "Your door was unlocked," he mutters, hands restless. "That's dangerous."

"What's another gun to my head?" Kaito laughs.

"Don't joke about that."

Kaito's breath hitches at the sight of Shinichi in the white suit again, flitting about _his_ secret room like he belongs there, looking for the tie and monocle needed to complete his look. "The wardrobe only unlocks when you tap dance to _Choo Choo Honeymoon_ in that corner," Kaito says, pointing at a random corner in the room. He knows Shinichi knows that the wardrobe doesn't exist and that the accessories are somewhere up his sleeves.

"Bull." Shinichi frowns, and asks more quietly, "but will it make you happy?"

"More than you can imagine." It's insanely heartwarming to see Shinichi gingerly tap his feet against the floor, face red when he realizes that socked feet make no noise. Kaito pulls him to the couch by the arm, weaving the tie around Shinichi's collar and carefully placing the monocle over his right eye. "Ta-da."

The complete Kid costume does nothing to ease Shinichi's frown. "Is that your dad's voice?"

"Yep." Shinichi can be nice when he wants to, Kaito thinks. It may have been unfair on his part to foist the role of Kid onto Shinichi, but that's not all he was aiming for—he's not looking for a successor per se. Shinichi just has zero creativity in his bones. All his gumshoe brain does is overthink and deduct the worst out of Kaito. God, the silence is crushing.

"He sounds cooler than you."

He wants Shinichi to take the cape from him, yes. He wants someone to force him to quit like his father did to his mother—there's no other way for a thief to quit otherwise. Shinichi isn't stupid; he must've figured the events out by now, between Phantom Lady's retirement and Kaitou Kid's emergence into the public eye.

A not-so-small part of him just wants Shinichi in on the fun.

"He's talking about you." Kaito allows himself a smile. "If it weren't for this tape, you would've caught me at the Blue Wonder heist." Shinichi tries to recall the exact event and Kaito laughs nervously, picking at the frayed seam of his shirt. "I won't make you do what you don't wanna do."

"I'm sorry. For blanking out earlier." Seeing Shinichi in costume is still surreal—lump in his throat and an antsy heart. Kaito just misses his dad. He misses doing magic _with_ someone. He is also really close to his next scheduled crying day. Kaito swipes the hat and monocle off Shinichi so he does not end up bawling on his own suit.

"You read too much into it," Kaito tells him. The slight warble in his voice completely betrays him because Shinichi does that. Slap reality in the face and bend logic because the only truth that can exist for everyone is the one he wants to believe in. "I just wanted to take you to a heist once. People would kill to be in your position!"

Shinichi does not react to that. Not a single twitch in his face. "I will not be the next Kaitou Kid."

And Kaito gets it, he really does. "Just one last heist, Kudou."

"Jii will have to take care of two kids."

"Pun appreciated, but I don't depend on him as much anymore." Kaito slides the gloves off Shinichi's clammy hands. If he clenches his fist any tighter, Kaito's gloves would break. Shinichi takes advantage of Kaito's blind spot when he's looking down, folding his gloves, to fix the monocle and top hat on him. A shiver runs down his spine when Shinichi's fingers brush against his cheek.

"What I really mean is," Shinichi's voice is tight when he tells Kaito, "you're the only one who can be Kid."

Toichi's voice lilts behind them like a ghost, tapes mocking Kaito into submission, telling him things that he recites in sleep and listing tasks that he has carried out over and over and over again, without fail. He's done it all. He wants to do it all over again. He wants to tell at least one person while he's alive—while they're alive. Before anyone else dies.

_Intoxicate them with the impossible, and even the challenging heckler will turn into an ardent fan._

The one thing Shinichi doesn't know is that the heckler was Kaito all along.


	4. Keep Your Body Still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont wanna bring chatfics back into fashion but ... pls all i know how to do is churn out bad dialogue............................
> 
> edit 12/14/19: just fixed a tiny bit that is inconsistent w their vegas heist !
> 
> pspsps. any inconsistencies w canon is bc dcmk canon is a lil wack anyway. enjoy !!!!! (<3)

Shinichi storms into the Blue Parrot, covered wall-to-wall with blueprints and scratched out diagrams, all leading to Kaito in the eye of his self-made hurricane. He picks up Kaito's card gun and shoots a heart-stopping millimeter away from his face. "You little bitch _._ "

The screech this elicits does not placate Shinichi the slightest bit.

"What!" Kaito brandishes a blunt pencil for defense. "What did I do!"

"You have eyes, don't you?" Shinichi loads two pieces of paper into the card gun and shoots again before Kaito has the chance to duck behind the bar. _United Airlines NRT → LAS_ cuts a few strands of Kaito's hair.

"Hey, watch it!" he yelps. "It's your address, but I bought those tickets with my own money, I swear!"

Kaito never gets it right the first time and Shinichi doesn't have to accept that. He refuses to tolerate this while he still lives to walk the Earth. "Dumbass," Shinichi snaps, "you never told me we're going to _Vegas_!"

"I thought you were smart enough to figure it out?"

Shinichi shoots another card above Kaito's head for good measure. "Well what of the Yellow Diamond, then?"

"Never said it's cancelled," Kaito huffs, carefully straightening out the tickets' creases. He holds his hands up in surrender, walking back to his previous spot in the center of the room. "I just think it's too easy for you." A thick folder is tossed Shinichi's way; he begrudgingly catches it.

"One last heist, my ass. You lying, good-for-nothing _thief_ —"

" _What I really mean is_ ," Kaito lowers his voice, perfectly imitating Shinichi from their tiff the other day. " _You're the_ only _one who can be Kid!_ "

The next card Shinichi shoots hits Kaito square in the groin.

***

Pros to being Tokyo's little high school Holmes? A brilliant CV, a couple citizen awards, and an overwhelming boost to one's ego.

Cons to being Tokyo's little high school Holmes? Crippling paranoia, the inability to admit vulnerability, and an overwhelming boost to one's ego.

Two sides of the same coin, really.

Ai throws a potato chip at Shinichi's head. "Go home, Kudou," she says without so much as a glance away from her computer. "The soap opera that is your life has ended. I don't want to watch it anymore."

"Just give me a couple more hours," Shinichi whines, poring over the heist folder like his life depends on it.

"Of the seventeen rooms in this house, you found the uncontrollable urge to camp out in mine. Brilliant."

"I'll be gone before you know it." Ai isn't exactly pleasant company, but the last thing Shinichi wants is for Kaito to find him before the heist rehearsal. Nothing works better than the compact-sized anti-Kid forcefield coding a mere two feet away from him.

"So how far have you guys gone?"

The forcefield has one flaw: functional speech.

"No comment." Shinichi has never focused on Kaito's lackluster scribbles as much as he is doing now.

"Congrats on the sex?" Ai pushes with a wry smile.

"Please don't," Shinichi begs. "It's just a little embarrassing to see him now."

Being the bigger man has never been Shinichi's modus operandi, and it won't ever be. The fault lies in Kaito for impulse-buying tickets to Las Vegas without consulting him or even Jii. The tickets are one-way only and Shinichi's stomach can't even stop somersaulting in anticipation for one heist, let alone two—one of which Kaito has not finished drawing up plans for.

His concern doesn't go unwarranted; the last time he and Kaito planned an operation of this scale, it was against the Black Org. Their success is debatable at large because everyone is still in the dark; not even Interpol managed to trace back the Black Org's activities abroad, so how likely is it that they only took down one branch of an international crime ring? And that's only one of the countless questions swirling endlessly in Shinichi's mind each night. Top contenders include: how does Kaito live after seeing people die in front of him time and time again? How does one stomach fresh red leaking out of a living body? Would anyone care for a dead yet infamous phantom thief? 

Fifteen hours. Narita to McCarran. Shinichi still fears traveling.

Ai banishes him to the living room come midnight, leaving Shinichi alone with Kaito's heist files, a dim lamp, and his own thoughts.

"Oh fuck." The curtain rustles with Kaito and the midsummer breeze behind him. "That's supposed to be thirty centimeters, not thirty-five, sorry," he says while pointing at a diagram.

"Hello to you too," Shinichi greets, rolling his eyes as Kaito plops down next to him on the couch. He feels Kaito lean back and stretch his arms out with unneeded lavish _._ The papers decidedly have more priority than Kaito's arm for the time being.

Five seconds pass them in excruciating fashion.

"Do you, uh, need help? Or anything? The groundwork is a little rushed, I admit, so if anything looks off to you..."

See, Kaito talks a lot. If not to someone, then to himself. Shinichi noticed this tendency after only a few hours with him, watching Kaito mutter and mumble incessantly under his breath; just inaudible enough to not warrant attention but too loud in the dark of their safehouse. Shinichi had not been the first to fall asleep that night or the following few.

"I was thinking I could stick around the force for the first fifteen minutes of the heist. No point in squandering two police uniforms. We'll meet at gallery B's fire exit once I distract Nakamori's men to gallery C, and you can chase me all the way to the rooftop before pretending to lose me. I'll pick you up at Hibiya." When Shinichi spares Kaito a glance, it's to his stupid poker face, eyes glazed over the papers. "Kuroba? Are you listening?"

"Uhhuh."

"Then say something, you dolt."

Kaito talks a lot—a lot of bull, mostly, because he's no detective. He doesn't deal in deduction or reason. Shinichi _had_ thought of him as all bark and no bite, initially, but two years gave Kaito blank eyes that betray nothing as it pulls everything. The ultimate bluff forces the truth out of others so he never has to piece it together with his own hands. A thief to the core.

"You're nervous," Kaito exclaims. "Seriously, Kudou, if you don't want to, you don't have to—"

Shinichi would rather die than admit he's nervous. "It's a little too late for that, don't you think? Prof. Agasa just fixed you another card gun."

"Which is why I'm saying—" Kaito's outstretched hand pats the back of the couch right behind Shinichi's head repeatedly. "—you're nervous. You have no reason to be, but here you are, waiting for me to drag you back to your own place."

"No one's nervous," Shinichi deadpans, "no one's waiting for you, either."

Something must've clicked in Kaito's head, face scrunched up from scowling. "Hey, is this about the other day? Because I was sulking in my dad's room and everything?"

Mortification is punch drunk red and strained lungs. Shinichi puts away the heist files just to get further away from Kaito and his damningly effective persistence. "Okay, it looks that way, but I promise it's not."

When Kaito's talking doesn't get him what he wants, his hands do the rest. Shinichi catches the twitch of fingers in the corner of his vision and leans his head back against Kaito's arm before he could pull any of his tricks. _I stole a diamond thiiiiiis big_ hits Shinichi far later than it should—he's yanked into a crushing hold against Kaito's torso, peering imploringly at the door he can see over the boy's shoulder. Shinichi has half the mind to bite it solely out of spite.

"It looks that way, Shin-cakes." Kaito dares to lie on the couch, pulling Shinichi down with him. "But do you promise it's not?"

Twelve Kaitou Kid heists, none of which Shinichi has ever solved fast enough to stop the thief. The difference between their skills is clear and Shinichi isn't so obstinate as to not know when someone is smarter than he is.

So, he says as much. "Foiling your heists as an outsider is a completely different matter compared to this."

"Mm-hmm. Like I said, you're nervous."

 _Yeah, maybe, justifiably so._ Shinichi wrenches himself out of the bear hug to come face-to-face with Kaito. "If the snipers show up again..."

"Kudou, your paranoid ass is safe within my hands. Trust me."

Minus eight days until the Tiffany heist. Twenty-one days until their flight to Las Vegas.

"I hope you know that I've enough evidence to lock you up for at least ten years," he says, putting up one last fight that he loses the instant Kaito presses his lips into Shinichi's hair.


	5. Maximalist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god i just want them to make out. god.
> 
> edit 6/23/19: i was buzzed to mitski . this chapter was not supposed to follow a mitski song, its amended now,

The first Kid heist to be held in over half a year is met with extravagant vigor. Kaito's face hurts from how much he's grinning at the revival of his taskforce, Nakamori in perfect form as he rounded up his men and called Kaito in for reinforcement. Even the Beika officers want in on the action; Megure and the rest of TMPD's first division stroll about the exhibition as if it were a concert.

"West wing men's room is clear." Shinichi's voice cuts through the static of Kaito's earpiece. "You have twenty-three minutes for setup."

"Roger, darling." Kaito halts the transmission before Shinichi can cuss him out, slipping by Nakamori into the shadows where Kid does most of his work. He catches a glimpse of Shinichi running down the emergency staircase and chuckles at the smile he can't keep off his face.

Tonight, Kaito decided, is going to be a good night.

***

Every single one of Kaitou Kid's offenses, from tasering innocent civilians to small-scale vandalism with his two-by-two square inch logo, is impeccably kept in Shinichi's records. Heiji and Ran called it an unhealthy obsession. Ai thought it was an anchor. It just took him far too long to understand that dead bodies weren't spectacles, and in a world where he's cursed to see blood in every block, chasing after Kaitou Kid is something godsent. (Not that he would ever admit this.)

Inspector Nakamori is hot on his trail—Shinichi has exhausted his chloroform supply, pockets light as his arms scream, climbing up the last couple floors of the building to reach the rooftop.

"Good job, _detective_." Kaito greets him with a beatific smile, catching Shinichi off-guard as he tries to get his breath back. Kaito's hand reaches into Shinichi's overheated suit, feeling for the diamond he had swiped not ten minutes ago, only to get trapped in between their chests when Shinichi pulls him into a kiss. It's too far into summer to do this outside, really, but sweat and grime be damned, Shinichi's heart is leaping out of his chest against Kaito's hand and he did it—he stole Tiffany's diamond in front of the entire TMPD, in front of Hakuba, in front of Kaitou Kid himself—

"Can you say that one more time?"

The heat is suffocating. "You—you did well, Kudou."

"One more time?"

"You were _amazing_ , okay?" Kaito groans. "Now get outta here before Nakamori catches you—"

Nakamori and his crew arrives on cue, two helicopters descending closer to the rooftop as officers ran towards Shinichi. He screams into the megaphone, " _WE'VE GOT YOU, KID, NOW KNEEL WITH YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK!_ "

Adrenaline is the sole reason Shinichi manages to hold Kaito by the waist and leap off the rooftop, scrambling for the hang glider switch before the altitude got too low. He can hear Kaito screaming, can hear Nakamori cursing behind him, the helicopters attempting to tail them from above. Nothing matters anymore because he just pulled off a Kid heist; he doesn't know if this is the last the world sees of Kid, doesn't know at all what's going to happen to him and Kaito after this, let alone at the Vegas heist. His feet touch thin air and he doesn't understand anything at all, but Kaito is laughing like a mad man in his arms and Shinichi loves him. He really does.

***

Shinichi thought he had tied up all loose ends when Conan bid everyone goodbye, moving back to the U.S. with his mother, having Yukiko carry him all the way to the airport for a fake flight to Los Angeles. What was supposed to be a peaceful week waiting for a stable antidote flushed itself down the drain with five letters from Kaitou Kid, rushed and desperate. _Father_ , the last one practically screamed, a whole page of bold black print.

Yusaku had a resigned look on his face when presented with the oxhide wallet. "Guess it's a bit much to hope you wouldn't cross paths with him, huh?"

Pulled back curtains and an unlocked window served as Shinichi's reply to the thief's distress call. Kid flies in with the mid-December frost, hanging onto the ledge for dear life as his hands trembled. Shinichi approaches him with as much apprehension as a child would to a wounded animal.

"Kuroba Toichi?" he asked. Kid shook his head wordlessly and motioned for Shinichi— _Conan_ —to come closer. The top hat and monocle covered a boy who couldn't be any older than he was, sinking to his knees and removing Conan's glasses in kind.

"Finally one-upped you, Kudou."

There was no triumph in Kid's voice as he said this. If Shinichi were more optimistic, he would call it conviction; he's never been that hopeful, though, and he knew Kid knew. Circumstantial evidence is fair game in their particular ball park.

"Kuroba Kaito, then." It could've just been the cold, but Shinichi's breath was caught in his throat when Kid—no, Kaito, Kuroba Kaito—offered him a defeated smile. Trembling, icy satin hands met his smaller ones in the middle.

What Shinichi never told Kaito was that he didn't want to know, back then. He never wanted to know when it would mean giving up Kaitou Kid to some fucking brat his age. He never asked for the answers, but it was forced into his hands when he lost, it was his point to surrender when Kaito was the first one to visit him as Kudou Shinichi after the hellish night that was Ai's antidote. When Kaito tolerated the sweat and nails to press a cold compress onto his forehead. _You're kind of a miracle, Kid, did you know that?_

Shinichi never stood a chance against Kaito.


	6. Catch You in the Moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ all the kudos n comments : i love u, i care abt u, thank u so much <3

Pride wasn't the first thing to cross Kaito's mind when Shinichi jumped off the museum's rooftop, but he wanted it to be. There was adrenaline; renewed excitement that he thought had gotten too out of reach for him, having done what he's done for so long. He couldn't feel his knees, stomach crawling up his throat to disappear altogether, hands a tourniquet around Shinichi's arm. He was laughing, they were laughing, they were happy.

But pride does not cross his mind until a lot later, past a lot of wheezing and laughing and linked fingers. Kaito tells Shinichi that he still has to return the diamond, that he is proud. "Do you mean that?"

"How do I not mean it?" Kaito deflects. It's half true anyway, though there's something else that's been screaming at him from the back of his head since the start of the heist, watching Shinichi run around the building as a decoy. Kaito just can't quite place it. The _feeling_ , as he tentatively labels it, makes itself known even before the heist as a stubborn grip around his lungs, heart wanting nothing more than to shut down while his brain does loops around logic like he's perpetually playing poker against himself.

"It wouldn't make sense for you to," Shinichi scoffs. "You don't like people stealing your thunder. Plus, I'm pretty sure Nakamori saw us—y'know. Earlier."

It's maddening enough to watch someone so uninspiring bluff better than Kaito ever could; there is decidedly a special hell for people like Shinichi who not only steals his thunder, but swipes the rug from under his feet at every given chance, without any effort yet with complete awareness of what they're doing to him. It's evil, that's what. He will rub the red off Shinichi's stupid face if it's the last thing he does.

"I'm honestly still feeling a little starstruck," Shinichi chuckles, removing the hat and monocle. Kaito takes them from his hands.

"Whatever for?"

Another thing about Shinichi that absolutely sets Kaito off is this one expression he makes. Just this one self-effacing smile that he can't read, can never understand, eyes staring straight at him in full clarity. Like the one Shinichi is making right now.

"I mean, I've always admired him. Kaitou Kid." His fingers are slow at loosening the tie. Shinichi looks down when he says, "You."

And that doesn't make sense. At all. That doesn't make a lick of sense and Kaito is just about broken at this point. Shinichi has done broken him, no masks, no cards, not a single bluff left to call. This is the most naked Kaito has ever felt in his nineteen years of living.

"You don't have to answer that," Shinichi mumbles, "yeah, please just. Shush. For a bit."

"I can't _not_ answer that, Kudou!" His smile is gross and wide and ugly. "You know, just because you have it all figured out doesn't mean you can expect me to understand everything you say with just _one word_ —"

Shinichi takes Kaito's face in his still-gloved hands; hot satin, the smell of rubber and steel. "I know you're not that dense, Kuroba," he says calmly, close enough that Kaito feels the words more than he hears them. Pride is not what comes to mind when Kaito thinks of Shinichi—it's dread. It's tiptoeing behind walls with his heart in his mouth, thumping so hard sometimes he feels like throwing up. Head-heavy, nauseating dread. The gunshots ring loud and clear from half a year ago. _Always half a year ago._

"But Mouri is still..." Kaito lets the words trail off. Pulling the Ran card is essentially asking for his front teeth gone.

"You don't get to bring Ran into this when you've done all that is you do to me," Shinichi seethes. "When you've—I mean, with me. With everything we've done, even I don't get to bring Ran into this." He takes a deep breath but his brows are still furrowed. Kaito is more than fine waiting for Shinichi to talk his head off, for he has not been capable of forming a single coherent thought after the heist. "So, yeah, I admire you. I like you—I like you enough. You can choose to not answer that question, like you do with most questions, but you can't say I have it all figured out."

 _Okay_ , Kaito doesn't manage to say, nodding dumbly instead. Shinichi bids him goodnight with a diamond and a suit.

***

Kaito can't remember much of the past half year, or even more, for that matter. The moment their plans were set, keeping away from vengeance was all he could do. Moving on and being the bigger person never came naturally to him.

And all that nobility fell through when he bought himself a gun.

To be fair, it was Shinichi's idea. Jii had joked about it once in passing. Kaito told them that they could never go that far, that it was a bad joke. Rule of magic: distract your audience.

Bullets weren't new to either of them—Kaito had his own marks, knew of Shinichi's, knew that Shinichi knew. They knew too much, honestly, and Kaito would call it disturbing if it weren't so easy, what they had between them. The logistics to having a wanted criminal in your team were tricky, and Kaito slipped into Shinichi's safehouse as silent as the frigid winter air itself, gun solid against his side.

"Almost there, Kudou." So he failed at silence. Kaito thought he should be allowed this one flaw; he's never had anyone before. "Hey, you nervous?"

Shinichi didn't even open his eyes. "Mm-hmm." He stayed still as a board when Kaito climbed up the bed, sitting next to him.

"You can meet your girlfriend again, isn't that nice?"

"Don't you have one yourself? Go to sleep, Kuroba."

"No, Aoko doesn't like me _that_ much." _She does, and she will, if you would stop lying. It's been three years, get a fucking grip._ "I think we are better off as friends."

"Mm-hmm. Go to sleep."

Kaito had a gun pressed against his stomach, _the_ Shinichi Kudou defenseless next to him, and nothing to look forward to after seeing everyone dead. He was over his head, thinking it was enough to 'round them up and move on'. He wanted vengeance, plain and simple; enough red on Kid's suit that he could never wear it for the rest of his life. It would be a just end to his little career. Past that was a little unclear, with Aoko getting further away from him and his mother never coming home anymore. He had Shinichi to hold onto for the time being, but a few hours from now, that would be over. Ran was waiting, after all.

It would not be so bad to take a bullet for Shinichi, Kaito thought.

"Kuroba," Shinichi grumbled on cue, because he knew Kaito, because they knew too much. "Go to sleep and stop _muttering_ , or so god help me."

God never helped Shinichi. God cursed the boy with death and time. God fucked him up when Kaito dropped the gun from a bullet in his rib and Shinichi had to pull the trigger for both of them.

"Okay." Kaito shuffled just the slightest bit towards Shinichi. "...okay."

Moonlit and half-asleep was how Shinichi caught Kaitou Kid.

 


	7. Eye Meets No Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dskghlksgjsg sorry i had to go get my visa and then my com overheated. but all ! is well ! now !!!!!!!!  
> also haha whats characterization ((((((((everything in this fic was based off NATAL CHARTS ))))))))

What most people get wrong about detective work is that little brain is needed, if any at all. It's mostly luck, circumstance, and just a pinch of common sense. Basic inference. At least that's what Shinichi thinks, piecing together Kid's Vegas heist over tea and the whirr of Agasa's power drill.

"I hate this," Shinichi grumbles, slamming the heist papers face-down. "Kuroba Toichi is _dead_ —make it make sense!"

Agasa kindly pauses his work to placate Shinichi with a fresh pot of tea. "Knowing that family... it's not impossible, Shinichi. You know that."

And he does—begrudgingly. He knows more of the Kurobas than Kaito lets on, connections spawning like cobwebs under his feet because he never took the time to look all those years ago. Shinichi thinks of this often; the disaster train of _what if_ s and _could be_ s crashing into them both as regret, every single time, when they never had the chance to do anything worth regretting in the first place.

So he and Kaito may not be best friends per se, but the pity party never ends when they're together. Kaito has made it clear that that is all they're capable of having. They've only got a week left before Vegas but Shinichi will be fine. If Conan taught him anything, it's that time heals most things, and all he has to do now is pray that Kaito will fall under _most things_.

Kaito, for the most part, has been civil. His disposition pilots him through their conversations, all toothy smiles and sharp remarks. Shinichi is both grateful and going insane from this.

Twenty-seven hours before Vegas; Kaito invites himself for a sleepover, _because I'm really bad with alarms_ , or so he claims. Shinichi doesn't say no. Kaito doesn't insist on sleeping in Shinichi's bed as he usually does. They breathe in memorized floorplans and itinerary numbers. Doors are best left unlocked in case anything happens—Shinichi has grown used to brushing his teeth with Kaito in the bathroom mirror, grinning goofily at him.

"Sorry," Kaito says, as if the apology makes sense after flight schedules and Nevadan postal codes. The sound of running water, to Shinichi's misfortune, is not loud enough to cancel out Kaito's voice. "I didn't get the chance to say it last time. So, sorry."

An apology is not exactly what Shinichi was fishing for, then or now, but he accepts it because he's just sitting dumbly in the bleak landscape of his metaphorical pier, not knowing what he's waiting for. He never does. Even if he knows, anger will inevitably rear its ugly head upon recollection of the fact that he doesn't have much to wait for anymore. After Vegas, _much_ will be _anything_.

"Do you know what you're sorry for?" Shinichi asks without particular malice. He asks Kaito this with mint behind his teeth and a hand stroking Kaito's hair even though they're a level apart, what with Kaito still refusing to get into Shinichi's bed, making the cold floor his home.

"Honestly?" Passivity looks strange on Kaito. Shinichi is dangling his arm out like live bait and Kaito doesn't respond beyond leaning back against the bed, keeping his face out of Shinichi's sight. "A lot of things. Where do you want me to begin?"

"You can start by sitting up here."

"That's not something I'm sorry for?"

"God, shut _up_. I don't even remember what I want you to be sorry for."

"Well, I've said my sorry, so take it."

Poking fun at their mutually absurd backgrounds and wrangling ceaselessly when things get too quiet; that's all they've been reduced to after the Black Org. Kaito is a pasty thing in the sick yellow of Shinichi's bedroom and Shinichi can't shake off Kid's similar pallor the night he got shot. Las Vegas—foreign land, foreign people, foreign syndicates. He doesn't know what's waiting for Kaitou Kid in Vegas, and it doesn't help his belief that this heist could very well be the last he will ever see of Kaito. Basic inference—Chikage, Corbeau, the kickoff to Kaito's long-awaited career as a professional illusionist. They did not purchase returning flights. Kaito joked about a honeymoon. (He should know better than offering that as a distraction.)

"So... the Bahia Emerald. Tomorrow." Kaito offers Shinichi a smile too bland to be a peace offering. "You excited?"

Shinichi can be civil. In fact, he is excellent at being civil. He will take painstaking, passive-aggressive civility anytime over another row that will just end in Kaito pinning him down to his own bed. "Not at all. It's the size of a fridge and it's ugly as shit."

"Its history is interesting, just like us."

Shinichi covers his face in defeat, laughing. He's upset and confused and in need of something he can't even place, so no, he can't laugh right now, not from Kaito's cheesy line. There's only so much dignity Shinichi can afford to lose. "Kuroba, please shut up. Right now."

"But you don't want me to." Kaito grins, sincerely this time. "Give me some credit, Kudou, I didn't spend the past two weeks brain dead."

"Retrospective thought doesn't grant you telepathic powers."

"I don't need telepathy to understand you." Shinichi regrets not switching on the lights; the tungsten yellow of his desk lamp does not help him discern Kaito's expression, a face absent of anything at all because of course, as luck would have it, this is the one time Shinichi can't break through Kaito's poker face.

"You're not clingy today," is Shinichi's attempt of avoidance. Procrastination comes easily to him, but escaping isn't something he is used to.

Only now does Kaito's expression soften into something a little too distant, something like pity. Throw in some confusion in there because when are they not confused. (Before he knew of Kuroba Kaito, to be frank, but Shinichi doesn't want to entertain that thought, not now.) "The way you've been acting today is kinda like how you did right before takedown day," he tells Shinichi quietly as if he's afraid. It's almost patronizing.

"How so?"

"Y'know..." Kaito pulls his feet up from the floor, sitting crisscrossed facing Shinichi yet his gaze is stuck on his ankles. "Like I'm gonna die, or something."

 _Because you just might. You could. You might as well be dead._ "I think it's you imagining things," Shinichi sighs. He knows Kaito has won this round because trying to bluff against Kaito is the same thing as surrender.

"Then am I also imagining you liking me?"

Point. Click. Bang. It's terribly unattractive of them both, being this wound up on top of Shinichi's newly made bed in shorts and t-shirts. A cat is meowing over the crickets and the air conditioner can't keep a steady hum. This is not what a confession should look like, but Shinichi has learned the hard way that when it comes to Kaito, nothing is how it should be. A confession should not be Shinichi losing feeling in every limb, sinking further into himself and wishing to get swallowed whole by the blankets while the air in his lungs stabs its way out the lump in his throat—but here he is. "I did say that last time."

Kaito is rubbing his temple. "Again, sorry. You wanted an answer."

It's hard for them to say no to each other—rejection isn't an option when they've gotten involved this deeply. He swallows back the words of _you will no longer see me after this_ because that is too evil, even for his level of emotional incompetence. It would be too cruel to keep Kaito and his work in Japan, the old dove; Kid needs to fly elsewhere or die. But if you can't say no, don't say yes, is what Shinichi thinks bitterly to himself.

"Do you want an answer based on my feelings or the situation?" Kaito asks sheepishly. He knows he's pushing it. He's been pushing Shinichi's buttons since day fucking one and Shinichi lets him because as mentioned—it's always as if Kaito is slipping past his fingers, no matter how hard his fist is clenched or how tightly he holds the other. As close to a real phantom as Shinichi will ever get to witness in his lifetime.

Shinichi exhales sharply and tucks himself under the blanket. "I can wait," he mutters. "Two conditions, though."

The tension in Kaito's shoulders release immediately. Shinichi watches him lean forward, too eager. "Yeah! Sure, anything, you name it."

 _Anything_ is tempting; cancel Vegas, quit being Kaitou Kid, _help me because I asked for it first, because it's unfair when the people I wait for leave me before I'm ready every goddamned time_ —

"First, I won't be in your next heist. I'll still take care of groundwork and watch your back, but—I can't. Sorry." Shinichi watches Kaito deflate, more regret and misplaced ire in the slump of his back than shock. But Kaito's answer is already complete enough as it is; he's set his sights on Vegas and Shinichi doesn't have the energy to change his mind. "Second, I know it's awkward, but sleep next to me."

" _Shin-dear_ ," Kaito coos with as much mirth as he can scavenge at the time, "that's corny!"

The desk lamp is off and Kaito is settled next to Shinichi, closing much of the previous distance while maintaining a conservative stance on contact. Shinichi feels cold where their fingers are touching. He feels cold and clammy throughout every inch of his skin and swears Kaito can hear the anxiety pounding at his ribs. "Really sorry—you were looking forward to this heist," he whispers in an attempt of quick-fixing what's left before their trip.

"You must have good reason. Like I said, I'm also sorry for a lot of things, so consider it as settlement." Kaito is half-muffled by the blanket. "And I'm not sure why you're doing whatever it is you're doing, but I'm not... dying or anything, Kudou."

Long shadows of moonlit foliage are all Shinichi dares to see in the dark of his room. He upturns his palm and slots his fingers between Kaito's—he'll take all he can for now. If Kid will never be in his grasp, then Shinichi will steal home this small victory. He will allow himself this much; _after Vegas_ is so vast a concept right now that it might as well be empty.


	8. Winning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> done w finals babey

They arrived grimy and bloated in McCarran, Shinichi cordial as he managed his nerves while Kaito rubbed five hours of non-consecutive sleep out of his eyes. It was barely eleven in the morning and Kaito passed out again before Shinichi could get his stiffened tongue to offer, "Shower?"

The Bahia Emerald proudly stands in all its three-feet glory within The Venetian, and the exhibition closes at ten. Vaulted at ten-thirty. It's six now; Jii is already posted and Shinichi is detangling wires on the bed, numbly watching Kaito check every stitch on his suit with excessive fastidiousness, slipping things into what seems like nothing but smooth white fabric. The hang-glider setup makes him look bulkier than he really is and Shinichi is one out of the only three people in the world to know this fact. They go through the motions—audio, camera checks, times, floors, exits. The in-ear fits snugly and Shinichi cuts off the connection before Kaito can start spouting nonsense in two modulations at once.

"Hey." Shinichi looks up from the tangle of wires in his lap to an oddly placating smile. "It'll be fun," Kaito assures, buttoning his gloves. "Promise."

Shinichi is suddenly too aware of how dark his suit is in comparison, how he looks ready for a funeral if it weren't for the gaudy art deco cufflinks Kaito insisted upon him. How the fabric of his shirt feels like it still has cardboard lining underneath it while Kaito's allows him to deftly cross the distance between the vanity and the bed, untangle the last few knots with trained ease. "Guess I still have to work on that poker face," Shinichi laughs, a whole boulder lodged in his stomach when Kaito takes the wires away from him. He hails a cab while Kaito gets into his typical bomber jacket coverup, dashing off to the parking lot where Jii's rental awaits.

Fifteen hours on the plane wasn't entirely spent wishing the passenger in front of him would stop reclining—Shinichi thought of things. A lot of things. And the pieces of the Vegas heist clicked quietly surrounded by the engine's hum; Kaito probably took Vermouth's bait for the one percent possibility of seeing his father alive under the guise of Corbeau. The intel they had for the scene underneath Vegas was poor but Shinichi doesn't know how to feel, knowing Vermouth had already dipped her hands into the exhibition. For better or worse, he believes Vermouth enough to know that they won't be in _that_ much danger—the danger has passed and Chikage is probably somewhere in the area, having effectively moved to America with how often she flew out. It's just this low, simmering anger, he thought. Just him being miffed for not having control over intel and an overbearing family when Kaito has a dead-but-not-really father.

He toys with his cufflinks the entire ride because he's a restless, jittery, overcaffeinated mess running on two hours of sleep with the ugly curved scar on Kaito's rib, skin still shiny in the center, imprinted in his mind's eye. It's almost sad to see how long it took for Shinichi to fear death, really, but he can't have the luxury to soak in that revelation when he's overloaded with the godless schedule that is a Kid heist. Their trust is not as reciprocal as he thought because no, he doesn't trust Kid enough, doesn't trust Kid with _Kaito's_ life because all that trust is on him. Does he have enough self-awareness to know how egotistical it is of him to feel like Kid's life is in his hands tonight? Yes. Does he feel responsible regardless? Absolutely.

So he takes a few deep breaths. Tips the quiet driver and makes his way into The Venetian. It's ten minutes to nine; he turns his in-ear on and hears Jii confirm their positions from his van a couple buildings over. Kaito is in a men's room on the fifth floor, voice no longer his own with a valley drawl in his words.

 _After Vegas_ is after Vegas. Kaito gives them the routine countdown. "Three... two... one."

Showtime.

***

For all his bravado, Kaito actually feels nothing for foreign heists. It's more work, more inhibition, and more _marketing_. Shinichi doesn't know the sheer amount of _nights_ Kaito has spent to get Kaitou Kid to trend on SoCal Twitter. _Fucking L.A. influencers._

"You getting drinks with us later?" one guard asks him idly. His tag reads _Samuel Wilsons._ The delay in response he's been accumulating is driving him insane because of course, Shinichi is the anglophile between the two of them yet chilling somewhere not needing to talk to anyone.

"Nah," he grins carefully, trying his best to not disrupt the makeup on him. "Got plans with my girlfriend later." Samuel seems inclined to ask more about this girlfriend, but time is ticking and Kaito has to get to the main exhibition hall in five minutes. "Sorry, someone's calling me on main." He hastily waves Samuel goodbye and brisk-walks to the nearest elevator.

The fifteen-second ride down feels like forever, and Kaito sighs, arms folded across his chest. Shinichi has been braindead, essentially, for quite some time since what he has magnanimously labelled The Tiff. He was sorry, _is_ sorry, for lashing out so petulantly when it's him backing out of a justified answer. He couldn't even _dream_ of the possibility, really, simply considered their being together a natural product of blatant trauma and loneliness. Never once had he actually thought of the feelings involved. Mouri Ran is a lovely person and it only seems fair for Shinichi to get back the two years' worth of love he had missed from her. That was how Shinichi should've figured things out. Literally swaying Kaito from an amateur residence in some Vegas casino is _not_.

The thing about heists is that most of his work goes on way before showtime anyway. He had organized the Bahia's impossible shipment to the Brazilian consulate in Nebraska in the middle of blueprint work, working with a Twitter follower who so happens to have a hand in the local government. The gem to be shown in half an hour is just a compounded mass of local emeralds. He could make a big show out of it, prove to the world that Kaito Kid is worth his name, capable of teleporting an eight-hundred-pound gem. But his suit feels especially heavy this evening and habit is _still_ the only thing driving his movements. It's been weeks, yet Corbeau and Shinichi remain warring for all available functional space in his brain.

Kaito also wanted Kid to go out in a needlessly extravagant bang. The right plan never came to his mind no matter how hard he thought of it, so he would settle. He would take this as a sign that he's hopefully grown up in the past year or so. Write a handwritten Kid note for once, make it mushy, make it sweet. Bid the audience farewell.

The elevator dings and Kaito makes a beeline for the disabled bathroom, bumping into his mother carrying two champagne glasses. He almost, _almost_ calls out to her. "Pardon," she says without malice, easily weaving back into the crowd before Kaito can come up with a response, to his utmost gratitude.

Locking the bathroom shut, he removes the makeup and staff uniform before slouching on the toilet seat with a sharpie in his grip. Things are adding up. His father might be here tonight. Corbeau might be here. Kaito is definitely a masochist for wanting to see him this badly despite how much his stomach is turning right now because he doesn't know what to say, to his fans or to his actually very much alive father. Jii's voice breaks the silence through their intercom, reminding him that it's only ten minutes until halfway through the Bahia exhibition and his entrance.

Dissipating smoke marks Kaitou Kid's international debut and resignation. Kaito catches his mother's stare in the audience, mouthing something he can't see from the distance before leaving the hall, two glasses still in her hands. He exhales sharply. No one moves—not even the guards, and Kaito would be offended if he weren't so tired. He doesn't miss the havoc as much as he thought he would. A quiet chuckle escapes him.

He finishes his work to an explosive fanfare as he disappears with the gem, leaving a note in place. _Thank you for everything,_  it reads, _and a good farewell to you all._

***

"Congratulations on the Bahia," Corbeau tells Kaito, perfect Queen's English in his father's voice. Kaito can brace himself all he wants, but nothing can really stop him from feeling the sick punch in his gut when he hears it in the flesh. He takes a deep breath and tries to smile.

"We're even now," Kaito declares with excessive gusto, "so I can retire in peace."

"Ah." Corbeau's cape doesn't look so grand anymore in the still air of Nevada. He takes a few steps back, closer to the edge of the roof. "Then congratulations on your retirement, though it's a shame I won't be seeing you more often."

Seeing Corbeau like this, Kaito can't really summon much emotion beyond nostalgic grief; a tiny black suit for him and a larger one for his mother. Asking her quietly why their father's body wasn't there when it should be. The similarly still air of a Tokyo summer. His shirt scratches the most prominent part of his scar and he has to wonder, _what was it all for?_

He has things to say. He has things to scream out because it doesn't make any sense to love someone who lied about being dead when Kaito took a fucking bullet in the name of vengeance.

So he removes the hat and monocle. Recklessly, impulsively, desperately. Corbeau flinches before reaching for his hang-glider and it's the saddest victory Kaito has ever won in his stupid life. He has just one final thing to say.

In Japanese, he makes sure, just to leave Toichi a parting gift of being called a father one last time. "You're a piece of shit, dad."

***

Kaito was unsettlingly quiet the whole ride back to the hotel, Shinichi noted, cleaning up after the heist quickly and with such finality that it relieves him a little—painfully so, but a relief nonetheless. If this is Kaito's answer to his question, then so be it. He's prepared. He'll be fine. The more he thinks about it, the more it doesn't make sense for them to be this close anyway, and it's not like Kaito is dead. It's greedy of him to wish for anything more; Kaito forgot to turn off his in-ear when he cursed Toichi farewell.

"Why are you packing up already?" is Kaito's first full sentence after the heist as he comes out of the shower.

"I asked Jii to help me book tickets home," Shinichi tells him in as neutral of a tone he could muster right now, "just me. You have your eye on a residency somewhere, don't you? I don't wanna be in the way."

"Look, Kudou, if this is about my answer—"

"It's okay," Shinichi cuts him off, zipping his suitcase shut. He sits on the vanity chair, far away from the bed because that's another death trap he has to avoid if he wants things to go back to normal between them. "I gave it a lot of thought and you don't have to. It's not as deep as you think, really, and I think we were just cooped up together for too long."

That part is half-true, at least, because even Shinichi has enough common sense to tell apart a healthy relationship from the loaded thing they have that is one step away from codependency. The other part is that it's deeper than even Shinichi himself thought because he needs Kaito in his life, one way or another. It wasn't about dating; it may have started as separation anxiety from fearing Kaito's sudden death, but now it's just a placid need for Shinichi to know they'll at least keep in touch. (Often. In obsessive frequency. He also thought of moving here after graduating if it means seeing Kaito again.)

Kaito looks at him with fatigued disappointment, shoulders slumped as his feet drag across the carpeted floor to drape himself over Shinichi, suffocating him in the crook between Kaito's neck and shoulder.

"I'm not moving to Vegas," Kaito sighs after a long pause. "Tell Jii to stop looking for flights, okay? We'll get him a gift tomorrow or something."

Shinichi ends up letting Kaito drag him to bed, still latching on and not doing the things Shinichi mentally rehearsed him to do, forcing him to think and think more because really, that feels like all Kaito is good at doing. Asking and taking more out of Shinichi because he's near and just too eager to comply. Thief to the core. "This doesn't really make sense," Shinichi whispers.

"Kudou, _please_ stop thinking," Kaito mumbles, actually imploring instead of his typical exaggerated whine. "For the last time, nothing really has to. I know you heard me on the rooftop so. Please stop thinking. If only out of pity for me."

Shinichi tries; he focuses on how tense Kaito is, arms squeezing his torso tightly. His hands smooth out Kaito's wet hair and the room's dim lighting hits the edges of his cufflinks. He'd completely forgotten to take his suit off.

"Help me with my cufflinks?" Kaito barely moves away from Shinichi, expertly removing them with only one hand before tossing them onto the floor. "Tell me what we're doing tomorrow."

"First, we're gonna eat a fuckton of burgers. Then you'll take pictures with me. Then we'll pick out a present for all the trouble you've cause Jii. Then we'll have a fancy dinner because I brought fake IDs."

"Sounds pretty good."

Kaito hums in agreement and Shinichi can feel it through his clothes. "Kudou?"

"Hm?"

"You're really important to me." Kaito keeps his face away from Shinichi's view, but he thinks it's a privilege compared to the mortifying fact that Kaito could probably hear his heartrate rising. "I have no clue what I'm gonna do with that information, or what you'll do with it, but you're important. I know this is a bullshit answer but it's what it is."

"You too," Shinichi says weakly in the end, just to give a response. His right arm is going numb and his ribs feel like they're about to collapse onto his lungs. No amount of mental rehearsal prepared him for this. "Is it okay if we continue what we've been doing?"

"Only if you're cool with helping me finish uni apps." Kaito finally pulls away from Shinichi only to bring a hand up to his cheek. "And me being clingy. I'm severely deprived of physical contact because people don't exactly coo over eighteen-year-olds, _Conan_." This gets a decent chuckle out of Shinichi. Kaito kisses him silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading / commenting !!!!! n following my iteration of the lads!!!!!!!!!  
> ((sorry for promising playful banter and ending on unsatisfying angst pft))


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